He Said: Steed Meets Mrs Emma Peel
by Gale Force
Summary: A first meeting story, the same as the one featuring Mrs. Peel, but this time told from the point of view of John Steed. Comment and constructive criticism wanted!


He Said: First Meeting. John Steed Meets Emma Peel.

John Steed scratched at his five-days growth of beard, and swallowed the rest of his grappa. It looked like his two men were settled down for the night. They'd ate and drank hugely…they surely wouldn't be going on after all that. Of course…you never knew with the French. They were always sure they could hold their liquor.

Well, his job was almost over. He'd needed a break from his real work, after his partner Cathy Gale had decided to decamp to Bermuda…and so had allowed himself to be seconded into following a couple of French toughs from London to Paris and points south. He'd foregone his usual bowler hat and brolly for turtleneck sweaters, and had treated it as a bit of a vacation.

He scratched at the beard again. It was driving him crazy - he'd been growing it for a week as he shadowed his men…now was the time to shave it off, anyway, and present a brand-new appearance to the world.

His two men were busy arguing animated over their cheese and coffee - filled with liqueur, Steed had no doubt. True to form, one wanted to continue on that very night, the other wanted to go to an inn and get an early start in the morning. The vote, Steed was relieved to hear, was to head to an inn.

He followed them there, and lurked outside their door for half-an-hour until the trumpeting sounds of snoring assured him they were both fast asleep. He nipped out quickly, went to the local car hire firm and exchanged his first car for another, and then returned to the inn, where he showered, shaved off his beard, and settled down to grab some shut-eye.

The next morning, early, before cock-crow, he went out into the parking lot to wait for his quarry. He strolled by their car, and stopped short in shock and dismay.

The keys were in the ignition…and the valise…the valise full of a million francs…was on the floor of the passengers side seat.

How could he have not noticed last night that they hadn't brought the valise in with them? How? Well, no point in worrying about that now. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Take the car, take the money…leave them in the lurch. They'd never know when it disappeared, either. Too amusing.

Steed hopped into the car and started the engine. He automatically checked the rear view mirror…and swore. He'd expected his two men to still be dead to the world - but apparently they'd intended to get an early start as well.

He pressed down on the accelerator and sped out of the parking lot. As he turned the corner, however, he was in time to see that another early riser had just lost _his _car, as well, to the two French toughs, who were now coming after him.

So much for his leisurely drive through the countryside.

The road was a long and winding one, with several switchbacks and hairpin turns. Steed checked the rear view mirror constantly…they were well behind and losing ground even further.

Damn! Up ahead a pokey old Peugot was putzing along, practically in the middle of the road. Steed leaned on the horn and then went around it.

Without warning, the engine coughed. It coughed again…and then died. Steed swore beneath his breath and twisted the steering wheel, trying to mentally urge the car to hold on until it could get to the verge.

He heard the screech of brakes, and then felt the violent tap that sent the car jerking onto the verge. Whew. That had been close.

He jumped out of the car to see that it had been the white Peugot that he'd just passed that had hit him. Thank god she'd been going so slow, he thought, and that the driver had had quick reflexes.

The driver….oh, dear. This was still his lucky day. She was beautiful…tall, slender, lovely.. "Êtes-vous tout droit ?" she asked.

"Je suis si désolé." he replied.

His accent must have given him away, for she immediately said. "You're English, aren't you?" So was she. She had a charming voice, low and mellow.

He smiled at her. His best charming smile. "That's right. My name's John Steed. And you are?"

"Mrs. Emma Peel," she said. Typical, thought Steed, as he heard the emphasis on the word Mrs. His eyes dropped down and he saw that she was wearing a wedding ring. Typical.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Peel," he said again. "One minute the car was going great guns, the next it just choked and died on me. I expect a spark plug's gone bad or something. I don't have time to mess about with it, though. I'm in rather a hurry to get to Dijon. Could I possibly impose upon you?"

The woman hesitated, but only briefly.

"Certainly. Get in."

Steed smiled at her gratefully. "Let me just get my valise out of the car."

He went around to the driver's side and lifted out the valise full of money. Then he crossed behind the car, reached down, and ripped off the dangling number plate, which he carried with him as he got in beside the woman.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

Steed glanced at her. As was his habit, he answered one question with another. "Why did I do what?"

She nodded at the number plate.

"Oh, this?" Steed thought quickly. "Well, it was about to come off anyway, wasn't it? And I don't want someone to steal it, do I? Put it on their _own _car and then go around committing terrible crimes. Someone spots the number plate of _their _car and all of a sudden the blame's on me."

The woman nodded. "I see your point."

Stteed relaxed. Quite comfortable cars, these Peugots. Absently, he reached out and adjusted the rear view mirror so that he could easily see the road behind.

He glanced over at the driver. She'd noticed what he'd done. He decided to turn on the old charm. What had she said her name was again? Oh, yes, Emma Peel.

He leaned closer to her, confidingly, smiling flirtatiously. "So, Mrs. Peel. Husband not with you, eh? That's a bit of luck on my account."

"On the contrary, he's here with us now."

She said this quite quietly. Steed blinked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's in the back."

Steed looked at that lovely profile. Then he turned and looked into the back seat. Empty. He then turned and faced front again. The woman was watching him out of the corner of her eye, but her expression was quite normal.

"He's not in the boot, is he?" Steed said….hopefully.

"Certainly not!" She was indignant. "He's in the back seat."

Steed was not a man to close his mind to any possibility. A woman who talked calmly about an invisible man in a back seat could either be sane or insane. Either way, he didn't want to disturb her.

"I do hope my presence isn't disturbing him," he said.

"He doesn't mind. I hope his presence doesn't disturb _you_."

Steed turned on the charm again. "Not a bit of it."

"Good. But you'll understand why I will just drop you off when we get to Dijon. Peter and I want to be alone."

"Certainly, Mrs. Peel. I quite understand."

"Good."

Steed smiled to himself. At a different time he would have enjoyed taking up the challenge of getting to know this delightful woman better…but now that he had two thugs after him he simply couldn't risk it. Once they go to Dijon he'd let himself off on the nearest street corner and get himself another car.

His eyes flickered to the mirror, and his stomach muscles tensed. Far in the distance, he could see a car…the same car that those two thugs had stolen in the inn parking lot. He flickered his eyes over to the Peugot's speedometer - why was she driving so slowly?

"It's lovely driving through the French countryside, isn't it?" he said cheerfully. "Lots of long winding roads where you can really put on the speed. You wouldn't mind going a bit faster, would you?"

"I'm going as fast as I think is safe," the delightful minx responded positively. "These hairpin turns are rather unnerving, I find."

Steed found that hard to believe. He doubted if this woman would find anything unnerving.

"Oh, what a pity." he said persuasively. "This is a marvelous car. I bet she'd do 120 easily."

"I'm sure she would. I'm sorry, Mr. Steed. I appreciate you're in a hurry but it won't do you any good if I run off the road into a ditch."

Steed glanced in the rear view mirror again. They were gaining.

"I really, really wish you would drive faster," he said urgently. "For me. Please."

But the damned woman _still _wouldn't get her girdle in gear. He had little choice now, Steed knew. If that car caught up with them, Mrs. Peel could be in danger for her life, just as he was. He had to make her go faster.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but you force my hand."

The woman glanced over at him, and she became very still as she saw the gun he was pointing at her. But she did nothing more than raise an eyebrow.

"I'll speed up," she said, and did so, pressing the accelerator hard down.

Magnificent, thought Steed, even as he breathed a sign of relief. She'd reacted not only as he'd hoped, but as he'd expected. No hysterics, no fear. Simply an acceptance of the inevitable.

"Who are they?" she asked presently. Very calmly, not a tremor in her voice. His admiration for her grew.

"Who are who?"

"Those people back there."

Steed smiled again. "I cannot tell a lie, Mrs. Peel. I'm afraid I borrowed that car …and I fancy that those people back there want it back."

"Well…they'll stop then, won't they? When they find the car on the side of the road?"

"They may well do. Stop and take a look at it. Then I fancy they'll be after me faster than ever." He tapped the valise. "This is theirs as well."

"I see."

The woman drove on for a few minutes…with only the sound of the humming of the tires.

Steed checked the rear view. The car was not gaining…but it was not falling back, either.

"So what are you then," the woman said coldly. "A petty thief?"

"Hardly petty!" Steed protested. "There's a million francs in this valise."

"Which they stole, presumably, and which you have now stolen from them?"

"Well, more or less."

"I see."

Steed rubbed his upper lip. He didn't like the scorn that dripped from her voice…but it'd be easier for her to believe him to be a thief (a gentleman thief, he reminded himself) than a secret agent. Probably every other man on the continent laid claim to such a role…women were too smart to fall for that these days.

He continued, for he did not want her to think too badly of him. "I am sorry to have gotten you involved in this, of course. But don't worry. Once we reach Dijon I'll jump out at a convenient corner…you'll never know I was here."

The woman pressed the accelerator hard down and took a hairpin curve on two wheels. For someone who had claimed to find hairpin turns unnerving she was doing a damn good job of attacking them without hesitation.

Steed found it soothing to keep his attention on the rear view mirror rather than on the scenery coming up and then passing them by rapidly.

Finally…"We're losing them," he called triumphantly.

"Right, hang on."

She pressed down on the accelerator once again. Steed hadn't expected to be able to get another ounce of speed out of the Peugot but he'd underestimated her. The Peugot surged ahead and this time didn't let up for some time. The car behind them was lost in the distance.

"All right, we've lost them." Steed said. "You can slow down now."

The woman did not slow down. Her every attention seemed concentrated on the road ahead.

"You can slow down now," he repeated, more loudly.

They took a corner on two screeching wheels and Steed grabbed desperately at the car door with one hand. He hunched back in his seat and put his had over his eyes.

"Feel free to stop at any time."

"You're in a hurry to get to Dijon." she said, coldly. "So am I."

Steed ran a hand over his face, smoothing out the amusement he felt. She certainly was going to make him pay…what a magnificent woman she was. But if she kept up this speed..even the greatest driver could come a cropper. She had to slow down. He'd have to talk sense into her.

"Look, look, I'm sorry I pulled a gun on you, all right? But they were catching up and you were being so stubborn. If they'd caught us they would have gotten rid of you as well as me, don't you see? I no longer had time to argue with you so I just ….."

"Threatened me with a gun!"

Her voice was outraged.

"I _am _sorry. You must see I had no choice."

The woman shrugged. "Yes, yes, I suppose I see your point."

Tires screeched again.

"You see my point, but you're not slowing down."

"You want me to stop, throw the gun over the side of the car." She took another corner on two wheels.

Steed massaged his temples with one hand. "You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Peel."

"I do indeed."

A woman who knew her own mind. And wanted to have her way. Well…hell, he'd have to give in to her.

"Well, all right." he snapped. "Have it your own way." He showed her the gun, and then he heaved it, as far as he could, out of the car. "There. Perfectly good gun gone to waste. Satisfied?"

The woman nodded. "Yes." She took her foot off the accelerator.

Steed breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."

"Oh, but I must. You very likely saved my life. Those are very bad men back there."

"And you're not?"

"Well…" Steed smiled. He turned on the charm again. "It all depends on who you talk to."

"I see." she said coldly.

He watched her profile for some seconds. What was going through that steel-trap mind.

"Well, now that I don't have a gun anymore, what are you going to do with me?"

She appeared to be surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a self-confessed thief, Mrs. Peel. Are you going to just let me go?"

Steed was heartened to see her frown pensively. "I'm not sure," she said.

Yep, thought Steed, the old charm is working. "What do you mean?"

Her reasoned reply filled him with even more admiration.

"There are two crimes that I wouldn't allow you to get away with, Mr. Steed. That I wouldn't allow _anyone _to get away with. But I have a feeling you haven't committed either of those."

"I'm glad to hear it," Steed said sincerely. What a good judge of character she was.

"As for the rest…" she waved a hand.

Not quite as moral as Cathy Gale, Steed thought to himself. But he had a hunch he knew what two crimes she was referring to and was glad to hear that she drew the line at those. Indeed, there were probably quite a few more crimes that she'd draw the line at. Nevertheless…

They were coming up on the first exit for Dijon.

"Left! Left here, Mrs. Peel!"

She blinked and seemed to come out of a reverie, but the Peugot zoomed past the exit. "You missed it!" he said.

"Never mind…look, there's a turning to the right." and she twisted the wheel. "I'm starving…if my travel brochure is right there should be a chateau up ahead…does a very fine cuisine."

What a woman! But…it wouldn't be a good thing for her to stay much longer in her company - even if they had lost their pursuers. "We're only a mile or so from Dijon."

"I'm hungry, Mr. Steed. Won't you join us for dinner?"

He blinked at her. Us? Was she still talking about her husband in the back seat? Obviously. He couldn't leave her now. He must find out more about her. "Us? Oh, yes, us. Certainly, I'd be delighted."

Steed walked beside her into the chateau, carrying his black valise. The chateau had rooms for hire but they also had a vast dining room. He let her request a table, and followed slightly behind her as they were escorted to it. Perhaps she would insist that her husband walk beside her, and he did not want to cause a scene. He held out her chair for her, and then paused with his hands on the chair back beside her. "Is this all right?"

She smiled at him, a drop-dead gorgeous smile. "Yes. Go ahead."

They ordered their wine - debating between claret and chablis, and while waiting for it to be served the woman said, "So, Mr. Steed, tell me about yourself."

"I'd much rather hear about you, Mrs. Peel."

"I'm sure you would."

Steed kept his face impassive as he searched her own. Oh, she was good. She must be a businesswoman of some kind. She was so poised…so confident. "You're a fascinating woman, Mrs. Peel."

He leaned back as the wine waiter arrived, and poured him a sample. He tasted it and nodded his approval, and their glasses were filled.

"Well, Mrs. Peel. You want to know about me? There's not much to tell. I fought in the war. When the war ended I was at a loose end. I've worked at many jobs….didn't like any of them. Then…I fell in with bad people. He jerked his head as if to indicate the outside world. "They stole some money. I decided to take it from them."

"A million francs, you said. You could do quite a lot with that much money."

"Indeed I could."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Well…" he laughed. "I don't know. Blow it on a horse race or two."

"That much money - enough to set yourself up in your own business…and you're going to blow it on a horse race or two?"

Her voice dripped with disdain. She had nothing on Cathy Gale, that was for sure.

He leaned towards her. Very close, and spoke in a quiet voice. "Have I disappointed you, Mrs. Peel? Do you think you can reform me?"

She placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back into his chair. "I am tempted to talk to you as you deserve, yes." she said coldly. "But women always want to do that, don't they? Change the men in their lives? And the men never change."

He blinked at her. Yes, she was very knowledgeable. But what she'd just said….she was a woman who seemed to choose her words carefully. He leaned forward again and said softly, "_Am _I a man in your life?"

"Only very briefly, Mr. Steed. Very briefly. I will deliver you to downtown Dijon and say goodbye."

"You mean you're not going to turn me in to the police?:

"No."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Peel."

Steed took a quick drink of the chablis. What a marvelous woman.

"Don't mention it. But if I may give you some advice, which I'm sure you won't take….Well…just make sure next time you steal a car that it actually runs."

"You know, that's very kind of you, Mrs. Peel," Steed said soberly. "Extraordinarily kind."

The woman waved a hand dismissingly. And then, with pleasure, "Ah, here's our dinner."

Throughout the hour they spend dining, Steed couldn't keep his eyes off her. She seemed affected by his charm….but refusing to succumb to it. He had the feeling that if she invited her up to his room she'd slap his face and leave him on the side of the road without compunction.

She asked him about the war, and he told her stories of his first couple of years…he didn't bother to get into the events of the last two years, when he'd gone into the special services.

_L'addition _was presented, and Steed insisted on paying the bill. "I've got a million francs, remember. May as well use some of it in a constructive manner."

"Yes. Well, thank you."

He rose to his feet, and held her own chair for her as she rose also. They turned and headed for the door into the lobby, and then suddenly she laid her hand on his arm.

"Wait."

Her voice was urgent. He stopped. "What's the matter," he said quietly.

"Something's wrong," she whispered. "They're waiting for us. Outside."

Steed looked at her. There was nothing melodramatic about her actions - she clearly believed what she was saying.

"They're waiting for _me_, my dear. You have no part in this. Stay here. You'll be safe."

"There's no need to go outside, Mr. Steed. We can call the police from here. The police will come…."

"And arrest me. Take me to jail. No guarantee I'd be safe there. Those toughs outside could get themselves arrested as well, you see. They'd be thrown into the same cell."

The woman took a deep breath. "Well. We're in a pickle."

Steed looked at her again. Once again with the "we."

"Any suggestions from….you know?"

"Wait…wait."

She closed her eyes, but then shook her head.."No. But then, Peter was always a very law-abiding man. If you won't turn yourself in he washes his hands of you."

"Right, then. Nothing else for it."

He started out of the restaurant. The woman followed by his side. He stopped again. He couldn't let her in on this.

"Look," he said earnestly, "there really is no reason why you should get involved with this. They are very bad men out there. With guns. I'd be so worried about you that I wouldn't be able to handle _them_, do you see? So please, stay here."

"You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I have a black belt in a couple of different martial arts."

Steed blinked at her incredulously. What tremendously good luck he had with woman. He'd never thought it was possible to meet one who could rival Cathy Gale. Oh, in the brains and the looks and the coolness under pressure - certainly - but to be familiar with the martial arts and not afraid to use them… "I say, what an extraordinary coincidence."

"What is?" 

"Oh…well…I have a black belt too. I just wish I had a gun."

"Yes," the woman grimaced. "Sorry about that."

"Not to worry, my dear. No use crying over spilt milk."

"Still..we can always use this one."

Steed literally felt his jaw drop as she produced a gold-plated revolver. No doubt about it. He was in love.

"It was a present from my husband," she explained. "I carry it with me everywhere."

"And I'm so glad you do, Mrs. Peel."

"So, let's go."

"What? Rush out of here with our guns blazing, Mrs. Peel? You've bee watching too many Westerns. The subtle approach is always best."

"So? Let's be subtle."

"We go straight to the car. I leave the valise here. They won't do any shooting as long as they don't know where that is. So, there will be some fisticuffs. We handle it, we get in the car and drive off, and bob's your uncle."

"I like the plan."

"Then let's go carry it out."

Steed gave the black valise to the concierge, and requested that he store it for a while. "Of course, monsieur," the concierge said, and secreted the bag away.

They walked to the white Peugot, their feet echoing on the pavement. Steed's nerves were afire. He knew the men wouldn't dare shoot…and if it were he and Cathy Gale he'd have no problem dealing with them. But even though Mrs. Peel seemed confident in her abilities…was she over-confident? It would be her trial by fire.

The two goons rose up on the opposite side of the Peugot. Amateurs, amateurs, thought Steed to himself. They should have waited until they'd gotten even closer.

Steed looked at Emma Peel, and then flashed his eyes at the bigger of the two thugs. Then…all hell broke loose. Steed didn't waste any time. He grabbed his opponent's neckerchief with one hand, and pounded him twice in the face with his fist. A third punch and his man was out for the count. He whirled around just in time to see Mrs. Peel stride up to her own opponent, who was lying on the ground, and kick him rather viciously in the face.

"Very impressive, Mrs. Peel. Mrs. Ga…I mean…no one could have done better than that."

"Thank you. What now? They'll only be unconscious for about ten minutes."

"We get in the car, and you drive like the wind toward Dijon."

"All right."

"Will you wait for me? I want to get that valise."

The woman took a deep breath. "Yes, I'll wait."

"Keep an eye on our friends here, won't you. Give 'em a tap with your gun if they show signs of waking up."

Steed raced into the chateau and retrieved the valise. "There are a couple of apaches on the ground," he told the concierge. "They attacked us! You must call the police!"

"Monsieur! Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course. But my female friend - she's rather faint. I want to get her into Dijon. So we won't wait. But I'm sure the police will want these men."

"Of course. I shall call _les flics _immediately, and then send Georges out to keep an eye on them til the police get here.

Steed returned to the car, carrying the valise jauntily. He was pleased to see that she was still waiting for him. "Shall we go, my dear?"

As she drove the few minutes into Dijon, Mrs. Peel spoke not a word to him. He didn't press it. He could tell she was thinking…perhaps she had found out something about herself that she hadn't known before.

In a few minutes, they had arrived at the heart of the city, and she drove into the parking lot of a car hire firm. Right next to it was the train station.

Steed got out of his side and hurried round to open the door for her. He was obscurely pleased that she waited for him to show her this slight courtesy.

"Well, goodbye, Mr. Steed." she said, as she locked the car. "I'll just go in and drop off the keys and pay the bill."

"Surely you'll let me wait for you," Steed protested. "You're not going to brush me aside, after all we've been through?"

"Yes, I am. Just because I'm not turning you in doesn't mean I approve of your activities, and in fact I'm wrestling with my conscience even as we speak so if you have any sense you'll get away while you can."

What a woman, thought John Steed. I've said that quite a bit today, haven't I? But she really is. I can't let her go…I have to see her again. But don't press it right now.

"Well…just as you say." He reached out, took her hand, touched it to his lips. "I'll never forget you."

"Good bye, Mr. Steed."

Once she went into the car hire firm, Steed was as good as his word. There was an inn…just a block away…she was such a methodical woman…she'd probably already made reservations there.

But as he reached the inn and started to go in…he felt a presence…an urgent presence.

She _wasn't _staying here, Steed thought. She was going to get on a bloody train!

He whirled and ran for the station. Yes…he was letting his emotions get the best of him…but he didn't want her to leave.

He arrived at the station just as the train was pulling out. Their eyes met. He waved at her.

"Mrs. Peel! Wait! Please."

The train started to move.

The woman waved at him, and that was it.

She left him, standing forlornly on the platform. All he could do was raise a hand in farewell.


End file.
